Free and Bound (A Club Volare New Orleans Novel)

by Chloe Cox

  “I can tell them no,” Ford said. “I can tell them to fuck off, right now, if you want me to. I’ll get them all out of here.”

  Adra smiled. That was insane.

  “No,” she said. “I said I was fine. Let’s go do our jobs.”

  “Our stupid, stupid jobs,” Ford said. “Remember when you were only an agent?”

  “And you were only a lawyer?”

  “We had no idea how good we had it.”

  No, Adra thought. No, we didn’t.

  “Any idea what Santos wants from me?” Adra asked.

  Ford held open the door to Volare, his face darkening slightly.

  “I can’t wait to find out,” he said.

  Eight

  As he walked Adra back inside, Ford kept thinking about this old television show he used to watch as a kid. It was the first version of the Hulk that he’d ever seen, the mild mannered doctor who, when provoked, would turn into this crazy green giant and violently save the day. Only Ford’s inner hulk was his dominant nature. And he felt like he was on the verge of Dom-ing out every time he touched Adra’s skin. Every time he saw her brush the hair out of her face. Every time he saw an emotion, any emotion, pass across her beautiful face, and that was all the damn time, because he didn’t know anyone who felt as much as Adra.

  He was doing everything he could to rein in his inner Dom until he was sure. And she was making it damn hard.

  And more than that—definitely more than that—he wanted to protect her. Needed to protect her. He couldn’t believe he’d allowed a goddamn photographer to get that close to her, but he knew his anger over that had as much to do with what had happened between them this morning as it did anything else.

  After all, the damn photographer hadn’t messed with her head by spontaneously dominating her. Ford had.

  That morning, with the scene, there had just been…something. Some moment. One of those crystalline moments when it was suddenly clear what was what, what needed to be done, and who needed to do it. One of those few moments that happened in a lifetime, and Ford had seized it. And it led him to the inescapable conclusion that Adra was the perfect sub for him.

  No. Not just perfect for him. Adra was his sub. He was her Dom. They both knew it. And there was no escaping it.

  There was only dealing with it.

  He didn’t understand what had made her run away from him after they slept together, but now he was damn sure going to do his best to try. One thing he was sure of: it was more complicated than ‘she played games.’ He’d been an idiot on that front. He’d been a selfish, proud idiot. He should have given her more credit. And whatever was going on with Adra, whatever she hid away from everyone, whatever led her to believe that they couldn’t be together, it wasn’t just hers anymore.

  It was theirs, together.

  He’d walk away if that was what she needed. He would always, always do whatever she needed. And if whatever was going on with her meant that they couldn’t be together, well, then that’s what it meant. But he was damn sure going to find out why.

  “Ford?”

  Her voice shook him out of his thoughts. His whole world had narrowed to where Adra was, and now, all of a sudden, he was in the middle of a freaking film set.

  It was insanity.

  There were stand-ins being positioned about while tech guys shown lights at them, figuring out how to light the shot, there were sound guys yelling at the lighting guys, there were production assistants running around everywhere, and Santos, in the middle of it, was sitting in his director’s chair looking morose. And staring at Adra.

  To be fair, so were Olivia and Derrick. And those two had had a rough day already.

  “We have had to change the shooting schedule again,” Santos said.

  Jesus. This production was just one clown parade after another.

  “So what do you need our help with?” Ford asked, keeping his eye on Adra. She still looked a little shaky.

  Without thinking, he put his hand on the small of her back.

  Shocks.

  Immediate shocks, shooting up his arm, through his body, making his cock come alive. He saw Adra’s body go rigid, knew it had hit her just as hard. He removed his hand like he’d been burned.

  Fuck.

  “We need to do the shibari scene,” Santos said. He looked at Adra. “She will help.”

  For a long second, Adra didn’t say anything.

  “I can certainly tell you about rope bondage,” Adra began, “but I don’t know if—”

  “No, you’ll do it first, to show her,” Santos said, pointing at Olivia. “We have only one shot.”

  Ford knew there were important things going on, but he was fucking mesmerized. He put his hand full flat on her back, let it slide down over to her hip. Watched her breathing change. Watched her back straighten.

  Knew exactly what she was feeling.

  Knew exactly what she would say.

  “No,” she said to Santos.

  Santos opened his mouth, but Ford cut him off.

  “She said no,” Ford said.

  She was his, and nothing else mattered.

  “Um, I can do it myself without Adra,” Olivia said into the silence. “I mean, I think I would like to know what it’s like, if there’s someone who can show me. I can practice, and that…I think that will be fine.”

  Under different circumstances, Ford would be noting all the details of Olivia’s emerging interest in submission, of her curiosity and openness. He’d be thinking of the appropriate Dom to set her up with, of the right way to introduce her to the club, the lifestyle. But there wasn’t much room for anything or anyone besides Adra at the moment.

  As it was, he had to tear himself away to make sure someone was looking out for Olivia.

  “You’ll do it with expert supervision,” he said shortly. “I will send two masters down, one male, one female. Your choice, but you will be monitored, and they may safeword you out. They will answer any questions you might have. You will be taken care of. Is that something you can do, Olivia?”

  “Yes,” the actress said.

  “Good,” Ford said. He hadn’t moved his hand from Adra’s hip. The contact made the thing between them seem alive. “We have some club business to attend to. You’ll deal with Master Roman and Mistress Lola for the rest of the day, and we will see you tomorrow.”

  “But—”

  “Non-negotiable,” Ford said, waving a trainee over who’d heard everything. Then he bent his head toward Adra. He let his eyes rove over the delicate line of her jaw, the soft curve of her earlobe, the smoothness of her skin.

  “Adra,” he said. “Upstairs. Now.”

  She turned toward him then, gently, gracefully. She looked up, let her brown eyes meet his. And then she smiled.

  He followed her up the stairs.

  Holy fuck did he want her in an animal way.

  He had to mentally scramble to keep up with his body, to assemble his thoughts before everything else took over. This was too damn important. He had to do this right.

  “My office,” he said.

  She paused, briefly. It was a meaningful choice. It meant she’d think about it every time she went into that office. It meant that this wasn’t just a one off game, wasn’t something to do once in secret and then forget about.

  Adra paused. And then she walked into his office, and waited for him.

  Jesus, just that act—standing in front of his desk, eyes ahead, waiting.

  Fuck.

  Ford followed her in, closed the door, and took his seat. Then he took a moment to admire the view.

  Adra was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. That he would ever see. Not one of her features was perfect, but she was. The way she almost lifted a hand to brush the tendril of hair that had fallen in her face, then thought better of it. The way she let every emotion, every thought, play across her face as though she were unafraid of the world, and yet still kept so much of herself hidden. The way she licked her lips when she
was nervous. The way he could tell she was thinking of the last time they’d been in a situation like this, and because of that, she was afraid—for him.

  That last thing just about killed him.

  “Adra,” he said. “Do you believe that I know you?”

  She looked at him, cocking her head like it was a silly question.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “So you know I can tell you’re worrying right now,” Ford said. “About our friendship. Possibly about me.”

  She licked her lips.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Don’t,” Ford said. “From now on, you never worry about that again, because there is nothing to worry about. Nothing can change it. Nothing can damage it. I am not going anywhere. I will not encroach upon the limits you’ve already set. Is that understood?”

  She blinked back tears.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “What are you not going to do?”

  “Worry about you or our friendship,” she said.

  “That’s an order, Adra,” he said.

  He watched her chest rise and fall a little faster. Goddamn if he didn’t just want to rip that shirt off. He took a deep breath himself.

  “That’s going to be hard for you,” Ford said, “because it means you’ll have nothing to worry about but yourself.”

  Her intake of breath was sudden, sharp.

  “But I’m going to take care of that, too,” Ford went on. “Do you know why?”

  She didn’t say anything. She had started pulling at the material of her skirt with her fingers, her nervous, nervous fingers.

  “I know what you are, Adra,” Ford said. “And you know what I am.”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  Ford studied her. He would commit this to memory. This sight, this moment. He needed her, and he knew she needed him, probably more than she knew. But she had been the one to walk away, and she had drawn the boundaries of their relationship, for reasons he still didn’t understand. She needed to be the one to admit that things had changed. She needed to consent to the fucking whirlwind that was about to engulf them both.

  “You have to ask me,” Ford said, leaning back in his chair.

  Adra closed her eyes.

  “That’s an order, Adra,” Ford said. “You have to ask me. Politely.”

  He added that last bit just for fun.

  A slight smile played across Adra’s lips, and then she opened her eyes, and held him with her gaze.

  And said, “Please fuck me, sir.”

  Ford almost lost his mind.

  He had meant that she ask him to be her Dom. She knew that. He was positive she knew that. And with four words, she’d short-circuited his brain.

  “More,” he said hoarsely.

  Adra took a deep breath, and shuddered.

  “Please be my Dom, sir.”

  “With no reservations, obligations, or implications, save exclusivity,” Ford said. “I don’t share. Otherwise this is no strings, just as you said. No romantic obligations. Except, Adra, that you are my sub.”

  He rose slowly from his desk chair, keeping his eyes on her beautiful face, his whole body telling him to take her right then and there.

  “And you always have been,” he said.

  Adra swayed slightly where she stood, her eyes never leaving Ford’s.

  “Then show me,” she said. “Sir.”

  Nine

  Adra’s skin grew hot as Ford approached. Slow. He was so slow. So deliberate. His eyes pinning her where she stood, the weight of him somehow overbearing even from a distance, making it difficult to breathe.

  She felt like she was buzzing around the edges, like on the surface she was over-stimulated and on the verge of shorting out, but the core of her was…calm.

  No, not calm. Just certain. It was like the whole world had shifted slightly and everything had clicked into place.

  He’d made her admit it. He’d made her beg. And everything had fallen into place.

  How was it possible? They hadn’t played together. How could he know how to dominate her most effectively? How could he know what she was like as a sub?

  But, oh God, somehow he did. Just the way he was looking at her…

  Like she was entirely his.

  She shivered.

  He saw. He smiled. Then he reached up and tore open her blouse.

  Adra gasped as she heard the buttons skitter across the floor. The air felt cool on the tops of her breasts and she knew without looking that her nipples were already hard. Ford held her eyes and slipped his hand into her open shirt, his hand big and warm and kind of rough, smoothing his thumb along her ribs, taking his damn time.

  Making her crazy.

  Unhurried, he moved his hand over her breast, and Adra’s breath hitched. Ford smiled slightly. Then he squeezed, hard.

  Adra’s knees buckled.

  Ford caught her, held her up. Popped her breasts out of the top of her bra just so he could play with her nipples, all the while watching her, that calm expression of cool superiority on his face.

  It suddenly dawned her what she was in for, and she was instantly wet. Well, wetter.

  Oh holy shit.

  Ford stripped off her shirt, unhooked her bra, left her bare above the waist, and pinched her nipples until she stifled a moan.

  The corner of his mouth quirked up.

  “Go bend over the desk,” he said. “Arms flat, cheek down.”

  Adra did her best to keep herself steady. Four-inch heels were normally second nature for her, but now her ankles wobbled all over the place. Still, she kept her head high.

  He’d make her bow it soon. That was part of the fun.

  Slowly she bent over at the waist, lowering her torso onto the polished wood. It was cold, and a small thrill raced through her as her naked breasts pressed into the coolness. It was also the perfect height—in her heels, she was bent just past a ninety-degree angle, her head a bit lower than her waist so that her ass was angled up for him.

  He must have known.

  And he must have known that morning, when he just…dominated her, re-enacting that scene. Must know now that she’d think about that. About what it had felt like, about what she’d been thinking, about what she’d wanted…

  The rush of embarrassment was totally unexpected. Adra felt her cheeks grow warm and her fingers dig into the unyielding wooden desk at the memory of that morning’s scene coaching. Ford had so quickly and effortlessly turned her into a pile of jelly, it was almost obscene. Had everyone else known? Had it been completely obvious that she’d been in his thrall, halfway to subspace, willing and eager to do whatever he wanted?

  Had they all watched and known?

  Adra felt Ford’s hand on her leg, her thigh, pushing her skirt up over her ass. She tried to regulate her breathing while he pushed the material up to her waist, but it was no use. She couldn’t stop thinking about how he’d had her like this before, how he’d dominated her so thoroughly that he’d controlled her very desires…

  Then he ran two fingers the length of her sex, teasing her outside of her underwear, and she moaned.

  “You were wet this morning,” Ford said behind her.

  Adra closed her eyes.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Just like you are now,” he said.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “You wanted me to spank you,” he said. “Right then and there.”

  “Yes,” she panted.

  His hand cupped her sex from behind, the touch making her arc upwards toward his hand, breasts pressed further into the desk, balanced on her toes in freaking four-inch heels, just wanting him to…

  She moaned again. Ford chuckled.

  “Tell me why,” he said.

  “Oh fuck,” she said. She couldn’t keep her ass from wiggling, trying to get anything from him, having trouble thinking of anything other than the need to have him inside her right that fucking second.

  “Tell me why, Adra, or I won’t let you come,�
� he said, squeezing her briefly, making her groan, and then releasing the pressure. God, she just wanted more pressure, and he already knew the damn answer.

  “Adra,” he said, his voice a warning.

  He took his hand away and pulled her panties down to her thighs.

  “You know why!” she said.

  Ford laughed, and then came the smack of his open palm on her left cheek, the sting blossoming into pleasure almost immediately.

  “You know that’s not good enough,” he said.

  She managed a groan.

  Smack. This time the right cheek, hard enough to jostle her into the desk, to make her flesh shake. She knew she wasn’t going to be coherent enough to answer for very long.

  “Because,” she said, “I wanted…”

  Smack.

  “What I couldn’t…”

  Smack.

  “Have.”

  “Almost right,” Ford said, smoothing his hand over her now tender flesh. All she could think about was how she was bare, exposed, so close, and he still wasn’t inside her. Her pussy ached.

  Damn Dom.

  And then she heard the unmistakable sound of a buckle. He was taking off his belt.

  “Oh God,” she murmured.

  “Hands,” he said.

  It took her a second. Already her brain wasn’t working so well. But then he took her wrists and brought them behind her back and she understood—he was binding her with his belt. He was binding her wrists to the skirt he’d hiked up to her waist, looping the belt through the bunched up material.

  He knew what bondage did to her.

  Just the knowledge that, being bound, she couldn’t do anything, couldn’t move, couldn’t resist—that alone could nearly send her over the edge. She felt a low, constant moan rise in her throat, almost a wail, and tried to hide it.

  Then her underwear fell around her ankles, and he told her to step out of them, his hands on her hips for balance while she did so.

  Oh God, she was about to lose her mind.

  “Spread,” he ordered, his foot pushing between her own. “A warning, Adra. Do not come until I tell you to or I will redden that perfect ass—do you understand?”

  Adra closed her eyes and smiled into the desk. That did not make it easier for her to resist an orgasm. Just as he knew it wouldn’t.